By Destiny Bound (The Lost Shrines Book 2)

by Amberlyn Holland

  "...not tolerate this sort of irresponsible, immature pranks," Brynna's volume raised slightly, snapping Yve out of her woolgathering. "Eavesdropping is completely unacceptable behavior—"

  "It was an accident," Yve blurted out.

  Brynna's glare sharpened and fixed hard on her. Swallowing uncomfortably, Yve knew she'd earned her punishment, but maybe she could at least save Enna from the same fate.

  "This isn't her fault. I'm the one who procrastinated. I'm the one who panicked and hid when I should have just admitted my mistake. She stumbled into my mess."

  "I'm very aware of who deserves the lion's share of the blame, novitiate. However, Enna stumbled in because she attempted to cover for you. When she should have informed me as soon as she realized you were shirking your duties. Again."

  The High-Seryt's attention shifted, and Enna tensed next to Yve.

  "Your punishment is to finish cleaning the loft before Mother Orra takes her seat there tonight. You have less than an hour before the evening meal begins. You'd best hurry if you hope to have dinner with the rest of us before the petitions are heard."

  Enna relaxed at the mild penance and heeded the obvious dismissal. At the doorway, though, she paused to glance back with a pensive frown. Yve flashed a reassuring smile she didn't feel.

  Brynna sighed. A common reaction of all the senior Seryts when dealing with Yve. "I don't understand you, Yve. You're smart, hardworking and devoted to the Goddess. But you have this romantic idea that the Order should be some band of crusading priestesses."

  The High-Seryt pressed her hand to her temple.

  "Even if that's what we really were in some distant past, and not just the fevered imaginings of some bard, it's not what we are now. We serve the people as an example, as a source of comfort, and as advisers. We do not actively involve ourselves in politics or the lives of others."

  "That's not what I was doing. It was an accident," Yve insisted. She hadn't deliberately listened. Of course, now that she had, she couldn't help wondering if there was more to the myths and songs that had drawn her to the Order to begin with. That there was more to their history than Brynna believed. Or that the Kelan had admitted to Lord Maddyn.

  "Maybe not," Brynna said, though she didn't sound convinced. "But you were in the loft when you should have finished hours ago. And with you, that always means you were exploring somewhere you shouldn't be. That you eschewed the Order's priority for your own. Weren't you?"

  Yve dropped her eyes, hands twisting in front of her. Her heartbeat hitched. Then she realized Brynna might know she wasn't where she was supposed to be, but she didn't know where Yve had been, either.

  Dropping her eyes, again, to avoid revealing her relief, Yve murmured, "Yes, ma'am."

  "Your punishment is to prepare the beds of luneil flowers for the coming full moon. Starting now."

  Yve's head shot up, and she exclaimed out, "But I'll miss...dinner."

  She caught her words at the last second. Yve could always sneak a snack from the kitchen. But she looked forward to watching the weekly reading of petitions and seeing the subtle political machinations they thinly veiled. She found the whole process fascinating. But admitting that would only confirm the High-Seryt's opinion of Yve's obsessive and inappropriate interest in areas that shouldn't concern a true Seryt.

  Brynna's sardonic smirk suggested she saw right through Yve's protest. Then she reached for a basket on the table behind her, passing it off to Yve with a flourish.

  "There's bread, cheese, some fruit and a flagon of water. It should be plenty to give you the energy to prepare the beds."

  Yve's shoulders sagged, and she trudged back through the Temple to the gardens. As unpleasant as her task was, it was still better than the punishment she would have received if anyone had found out where she really was.

  As far as she'd been able to tell, the Kelan was the only one who knew about the hidden door and the secret library behind it. If anyone knew Yve had stumbled on the matriarch coming out of it, she would have been sworn to secrecy.

  If anyone discovered she'd been sneaking away from chores to read the treasure of histories and records it concealed, she might very well be asked to leave the Order.

  -2-

  THE crier's call reverberated from the south watchtower, announcing to the city that the prince was on his throne and ready to hear petitions.

  Yve paused, shifting back and stretching the kinks from the stiffening muscles of her back. Brynna really knew how to pick a punishment. Missing petitions was bad enough. But sitting still, moving only a few inches at a time for hours was contrary to Yve's normal need for constant motion.

  Standing up, she shook out the tension in her legs. Perhaps a brief stroll was in order. To keep her body from tightening up too much, of course. And, if her walk took her past the throne room, well, everyone would be inside, watching the petitions.

  No one would notice her.

  There was a small, rarely noticed alcove to the left of the stairs that led up to the Order's gallery. In the shadows, half-hidden by a tapestry of some historical battle, Yve could tuck herself in and not be seen by anyone in the main corridor outside the Great Hall. Sound from the audience chamber drifted down from the open loft, letting her hear most of what went on inside.

  Most that is, except for Lady Willa who spoke so quietly, Yve strained to hear. Shoulder pressed to the alcove wall, face turned toward stairs, she focused all of her attention on the raspy murmurs and still only managed to catch every third word.

  "Apparently, spying on others is a habit of yours."

  The deep voice, whispered practically in her ear, made Yve jolt away instinctively, knocking her body into the wall.

  Rubbing at the sore spot, she turned and frowned up at Lord Maddyn, who blocked nearly the whole niche with his bulk. Up close, the man was even better looking. Though his eyes were a darker blue than she'd expected. He towered over her, taller and more powerful than any man she'd ever met. But he didn't loom or intimidate. In fact, Yve found herself wanting to lean in and touch rather than shrink away.

  Swallowing back the inappropriate thought, Yve lifted her chin defiantly.

  "I'm not spying. Petitions are open for everyone to observe."

  "Yes. But most prefer to from inside the throne room. Not skulking in the hallway."

  Yve pressed her fists to her hips and glared. "I'm not skulking."

  His lips twitched slightly, not quite turning all the way up in amusement. Suspicion still shadowed the pale eyes boring into her. "Then what precisely are you doing, tucked in a hidden alcove?"

  The righteous indignation deserted Yve, and her teeth sank into her lower lip. She looked away from his gaze before answering, her voice low to keep it from carrying up to the loft.

  "I, um, I'm supposed to be in the garden. Taking care of the luneil bed in preparation for the full moon. Because of what happened. Earlier. With you and everyone..."

  Realizing she was babbling, again, Yve took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. "I'm not spying. I'm hiding so that I can hear what's happening, hopefully without incurring another punishment."

  "Luneils?"

  "Flowers. They're used in healing tonics. They only bloom on the full moons between the Summer Solstice and the Autumn Equinox. They won't flower properly if they are too crowded or over-shadowed by weeds."

  Maddyn's lips pinched, curiosity warring with disbelief but he didn't get the chance to ask any more questions.

  "I'll check, Kelan Orra," Brynna's voice drifted down from the top of the stairs. Footsteps on the treads followed almost immediately.

  Yve jumped, automatically shrinking back into the shadows of the alcove before realizing how futile it was with Maddyn right there to give her away.

  Except, when he moved, it wasn't to reveal her presence.

  Instead, he shifted closer, so his broad shoulders blocked even more of her pathetic hiding place. Yve stared at his back, surprised when his quiet greeting made no ment
ion of her.

  A warm curl of appreciation wrapped around her, but Yve ruthlessly pressed the unexpected fondness back down. Just because he didn't tattle, it didn't mean he cared. He'd made it clear he didn't trust her.

  Yve couldn't help holding her breath, however, until the footsteps vanished down the main hallway. Toward the eastern entrance. Which opened into the Temple garden. Where Yve was supposed to be.

  "Oh, no. If she gets there first, I'm going to be scrubbing every tile and window in the Temple."

  Yve pushed past him and ran half a dozen steps toward the kitchens and her favorite shortcut before stopping abruptly. Twisting back, she was surprised Maddyn hadn't moved, though he was frowning after her.

  "Thank you for--"

  Yve waved her hand to encompass the alcove and the direction the High-Seryt had taken, unsure how to express what that one moment of kindness meant to her. She dropped her arm and grinned at her own ridiculousness.

  "Just. Thank you."

  Then she turned and sprinted away, not giving in to the urge to look back one more time to see if he was still watching her.

  *****

  Yve thanked him with a giddy wave of her hand then rushed away. For a moment, Maddyn stared after her bemused and unblinking. The urge to protect her from her own folly stunned him. There had been no intention on his part. No thought. Just an automatic response, putting himself between her and authority. It had been instinctive. The same way he'd covered for his brothers when they were trouble-making kids. They'd been his to protect, even then.

  But Yve wasn't one of his. He didn't trust her.

  Something in him wanted to, though.

  He considered going back into the throne room, but he had little interest in dealing with the superstitious ignorance again.

  Rather than settle with the nobles on the benches along the wall, Maddyn deliberately entered late to stand in the back with the merchants, farmers and other untitled masses. Rumors had already spread about him, however. The stranger who'd arrived, bearing the name and countenance of a boggle from popular ballads.

  Like the Keep’s residents in the halls and, later, the nobles at dinner, the crowd edged away and cast uncertain glances at him. He'd even seen one or two covert hand gestures to ward off evil. Not anything he wasn't used to. The stories and songs had exaggerated his Attribute from the beginning. He supposed that he couldn't blame anyone for being wary of one of the Harbingers of Death. Most of the time, the reaction amused him. Whether people overestimated him or underestimated him, it was his advantage.

  But, here and now, it was a detriment. He needed information, and he needed it as quickly as possible so he could mitigate the risk in Galwei. Maddyn was stuck here until he fulfilled his mission. In the meantime, each of his brothers was in danger. Out in the world vulnerable to Hafgan and Tresk with no one to watch their back. As the eldest, protecting them was supposed to be his job. Would always be his responsibility.

  Being away from that duty was an insistent, unsatisfied itch under his skin. One he'd been dwelling on when he caught the unique blend of citrus and lavender wafting in the air. It had been almost a relief to follow the intriguing scent and ditch the anxious crowd.

  Suspicious, he corrected himself.

  He was suspicious, not intrigued, by Order novitiate Yve, damn it.

  He didn't find the unruly way her dark hair refused to be tamed by the tight braid endearing. He wasn't tempted to curl his finger in it to see if it was as silky as it looked. He wasn't drawn in by the earnestness of dark eyes or the way she seemed fearless in the face of everything but being caught procrastinating. Not even when faced with the reputation Maddyn dragged around with him.

  He wasn't intrigued.

  Maddyn couldn't afford to be. Couldn't allow himself to notice her soft curves, her intensity, her sharpness, or the hint of humor she'd flashed before running away. He couldn't afford to because he couldn't trust her. He couldn't trust anyone until he found what he was looking for in Galwei and completed his quest.

  And if he repeated it to himself often enough, he would start to believe it, damn it.

  People began trickling out of the Great Hall by ones and twos, and the sudden activity brought him back to the moment.

  Uninterested in dealing with the mass of people, he hung back. The shadows of the alcove and the inherent disinterest of the crowd kept him concealed.

  Once the corridor had mostly cleared, movement on stairs drew his attention. The Seryts came down first, with the Kelan Orra regally descending behind them.

  "Lord Maddyn," the Kelan greeted him with a soft smile. "Did you find the reading of petitions interesting?"

  "Enlightening, at least," Maddyn answered, his lips twisting with a hint of irony.

  Orra waved off the Seryts hovering a few feet away. The younger members immediately headed toward the Temple, but one or two of the elder ones hesitated before reluctantly following.

  The Hall cleared swiftly, leaving them in relative solitude.

  "Yes. Magistrate Davane is often enlightening. Every time he opens his mouth, I think it's impossible for someone to be any more pompous. And yet, week after week, he manages to top himself," Orra said, sighing in exasperation.

  Maddyn allowed the Kelan to steer the discussion through the gamut of small talk, but patience was never his strong suit. As soon as a lull in conversation gave him the opportunity, he asked the question uppermost on his mind.

  "Have you thought of any more possibilities that could lead us toward Hafgan's target?"

  "You know, it's only been a couple of hours, most of which was taken up by dinner and listening to the petitions. I haven't had much time to decide where even to begin."

  "I understand. It just seemed you might have some insights that you didn't feel comfortable sharing earlier."

  A grey eyebrow lifted, but she smiled anyway.

  "There are some stories. Legends that the gift passed on from Kelan to Kelan was originally received by the daughter of the first king. Her name was Kelan, and we carry it as a title in honor of her memory. The tales say she successfully negotiated the maze when she came of age. When she emerged, she had the gift." Orra shrugged elegantly, a dismissive smile ghosting her lips. "We've always considered the tales more allegory than history. Most of the details have been lost to time."

  None of Maddyn’s senses suggested Orra was lying. And yet, the feeling that there was more that she wasn't saying continued to hold him. He'd have to bide his time and find a way through deflection.

  Instead, he asked, "Why didn't you mention these legends earlier, then?"

  "Because certain things have always been considered mysteries of the Order. Shared only with those initiated and sworn to the Goddess. Our gift skirted a little too close to sorcery for some, more conservative, envoys of other kingdoms. Certain parts of our history and legends are considered sacred knowledge, shared only with those within the Order." Her lips twitched into a fond smile. "Of course, the gift has been more or less an open secret to all and sundry in Galwei for centuries."

  "And what, exactly, is this not-sorcerous gift?" Maddyn's voice dropped to a skeptical rumble. His family's skirmishes with Hafgan left him wary of anything remotely connected to sorcery. Lia had briefed him on rumors that the Kelan was Goddess-touched but not on the nature of the gift itself. Everyone knew the Orra had a gift, but no one knew what, precisely, they were capable of.

  Orra considered him for a long moment, and Madd doubted she would answer with anything other than another half-truth.

  "I see destiny."

  Her sudden, forthright reply took him by surprise.

  "Destiny? You see the future?"

  "Not exactly. There are things that should happen, must happen, or everything after is irrevocably altered. Sometimes for better, sometimes not." The Kelan smiled serenely, giving Maddyn a sense of unease. "Your foster brother's bond with his Handmaiden prevented a descent into turmoil. But there is still much to do before the world is saf
e from the clutches of Tresk and Hafgan."

  Maddyn stiffened. Caerwyn's recent marriage was common knowledge, especially in light of it coming so soon after Lia and Daen dissolved their betrothal agreement.

  The moon-bond itself, however, had been kept a secret. Not that many would believe in it, anyway. Like the Kelan's ancient, lost maze, the magical bond between soulmates was considered little more than a children's story. It was possible Daen knew, of course, though none of them had talked about it. If he did, then Maddyn supposed it wouldn't be unlikely that he might share it with a close advisor like Orra.

  This wasn't about Caer or Lia, though, and Maddyn had too many questions to let himself get sidetracked.

  "What kind of things are still left to do?" Madd demanded from between clenched teeth.

  Orra's features remained smooth, serene and enigmatic.

  "If you find your answers and are willing to bend enough to accept help, you will take the next step. If not, your brothers' tasks will be in danger, though they may yet succeed."

  Cold fear spiraled around him and instinctive protectiveness had him stepping closer to loom over the Kelan.

  "This is not a game," he growled. "I don't have time for riddles."

  "I know. Unfortunately, destiny is rarely clear or straightforward. Believe me, in my youth I was as impatient as you are with the reins and restrictions of my gift. Age has taught me to be patient and to trust that the process of finding the truth is at least as important as the knowledge gained in the end." The Kelan paused, eyes looking far away and a little melancholy. "Even now, when I think I know what fate has in store, I still don't always know what it means. Or if I'll make the right choice, when the time comes."

  Madd shifted back a step and pushed his hand through his hair in frustration.

  "Is there anything you can tell me?"

  "I can tell you Yve is part of this, though I worry she's too young and unprepared for it. Your path will go through her."